


It Begins

by Slaskia



Series: Astral Aligned Continuity [35]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Character Death, Disappointment, Former Co-Worker, Gen, Monologue, Plans, drugged, incapacitated, intruder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 14:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17941238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slaskia/pseuds/Slaskia
Summary: Prowl has an intruder on his ship....





	It Begins

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this one for a while. It will provide a hint on what has happened...and what will happen....

_Era:  Exodus_

Everything was in order, as expected.  The _Noble Cipher_ was functioning within optimal range, as calculated.  Supplies inventoried, course set.  All variables noted and accounted for.  Where ever this journey was to lead him, Prowl was ready for it. 

If only it hadn’t needed to come to this. 

Prowl shut is optics as he sat in the pilot’s seat.  Behind the ship, he knew his home, Cybertron, was growing more distant.  No, it wasn’t his home, not anymore.  What sane bot would call a dead world home? 

If only the Prime had listened to him.  Kept to his carefully calculated plans.  They would have won, he was certain of it.  But no, Optimus couldn’t stand the cost.  The _reasonable_ cost in lives needed to win.  He allowed emotion to cloud his judgment, to keep him from seeing what was needed to be done. 

Now they had a dead homeworld.  Their forces scattering across the galaxy.  To be picked off by their enemies. 

To Prowl, they have effectively _lost_ the war. 

He opened his optics and brought his hands together in thought.  No, not completely.  Megatron was chasing the Arc, effectively keeping the Decepticon leadership busy.  What they needed was a resource rich planet to regroup upon. Perhaps a colony world that hadn’t been decimated by the rust plague.  That and a leader that wouldn’t let emotion cloud their judgment.  That role he could fulfill.  Easy. 

A rare smile played on his face.  The beginnings of a new plan forming in his processor. 

What sounded like a door opening caught his attention.  He spun his chair around, visually checking the cabin space.  Main hatch was still closed, with no indication it had recently opened.  Weapons locker was the same.  From here, however, he could not confirm the status of the berthroom or storage room doors. 

Not wanting to leave anything to chance, Prowl rose from his seat and approached the short hallway that granted access to both.  The berthroom was first and it was closed as it should be.  The storeroom, however, was wide open. 

Frowning, Prowl checked the frame for any obvious defects.  There were none, perhaps a coding glitch?  He’ll have to run a systems check.  First though, he entered the store room to confirm no oddities within. 

At first glance, nothing appeared to be disturbed.  Then he noticed a floor panel seemed off.  It was the panel leading to a hide space used to smuggle supplies during the war.  A panel that was secure when he had departed.  The implication was obvious. 

He had an intruder on board. 

Prowl drew his service blaster and carefully scanned the room, wanting to clear it before he left it.  He didn’t see anything. 

Wait. 

In the corner closest to the door, he thought he saw movement.  A shimmer of distorted air. 

Cloaking device. 

“Identify yourself!” Prowl demanded, aiming his blaster at the figure. 

There was a laugh before the figure moved, dashing out of the room before he could fire.  Prowl quickly followed it out into the hallway, but slowed his pace, his weapon out front as he cautiously moved back toward the cockpit.  He hadn’t heard a door open, but he still confirmed the berthroom was still secure as he passed by. 

He then slowly rounded the corner were the hallway ended, keeping his back toward the other wall, his weapon aimed in front of him.  There was no- 

Something struck his hands from underneath, knocking his weapon out of them.  Then a larger body slammed him into the wall, pain shooting through his back as his doorwings were flattened unnaturally against his back.  Something was jabbed into his neck. 

The weight that was against him disappeared.  Prowl swung but hit nothing but air.  The distortion effect of the cloaking device made it difficult to determine his opponent’s exact position.  He quickly made mental adjustments and moved to attack again. 

Only to find his limbs no longer wanted to respond. 

With a confused cry of static, Prowl could only stumble a couple of paces forward before falling flat on to his face.  He tried to move but found he couldn’t.  That pain in his neck before must have been the intruder injecting him with an incapacitating agent. 

But why merely incapacitate him?  What was the intruder’s goal? 

He could hear the intruder moving, the bot apparently no longer concerned about him.  Prowl again tried to move, but the drug he was given was perfectly administered.  Every joint was locked up, effectively paralyzed: he couldn’t even twitch a finger. 

Typing.  The intruder was accessing his ship database.  Prowl had a lot of intel in there, very sensitive intel.  This had to be a Decepticon was seeking information to aid their cause.  He had to stop them, but he still couldn’t even blink his optics.  Surely such a drug didn’t have long lasting effects! 

Then he heard a chuckle. 

“Excellent,” an oddly accented voice cooed, though there was something familiar about it.  “I knew you would have wha’ I needed, Prowl.” 

That this bot knew his name was of no surprise.  Just about every Decepticon knew who he was.  Which one was this though?  He needed to figure it out so he formulate a proper counter once he could move again. 

Light footfalls told him the bot was approaching him now.  Then he felt himself being lifted, accompanied by the sensation of hooked, sharp claws on his frame.  Not many frame types had proper claws and combined with the lightness of the footsteps pointed at this bot being a seeker. 

Which one though?  The seeker Skywarp had both the ability to teleport and cloak, the former explaining easily how this bot got onto his ship without being detected.  However, the voice didn’t match the imprint he had on file, not to mention when Skywarp was cloaked, you didn’t see _anything_ , unlike with this one.  Prowl concluded this could not be Skywarp. 

His processor ran through a few other possibilities as the bot shifted him, moving him into a rough sitting position on the floor, facing the cockpit.  Once he was positioned to the bot’s satisfaction, the cloaking device was turned off.  The intruder was revealed to him in full. 

He was right about it being a seeker, however…he had been looking at the wrong _faction_! 

His optics widened with what minute control he had over them. 

“You strike me as bot tha’ isn’t often surprised,” the seeker purred, a wide grin on his face.  “Considering your status, I suppose tha’ is to be expected.” 

Yellow and silver, with black accents.  Multi-ringed yellow optics.  Barbed shaped claws.  Frame sporting many points and hooks.  There was only one bot this could be. 

Flashwing. 

“Firs’, I have confession to make:  it was real _pleasure_ working under you.” 

“F…kkk…,”  Prowl tried to say, but nothing but static came out. 

“No. Truly!  It was!” the bot continued, his grin turning into a smirk.  “You see…if it wasn’t for you taking me in, I wouldn’t have developed taste for interrogation…for _torture_!” 

A mistake.  A grievous error in calculation.  He realized this long ago when they got a tip that this bot tried to trade critical intel for Skywarp.  They were fortunate Megatron either had some decency and refused.  Or he was sadistic enough to not want to take the easy way and ensure everyone suffered for as long as possible. 

“Then again, where I come from ‘torture’ was quite common, though we prefer to call it… _Convincing…._ ” 

“Flash…,” he finally managed. 

“Oh!”  Flashwing looked amused.  “You can still _talk!_   Looks like I’ll have to make some… _adjustments_ …to formula!” 

No, he was wrong there.  Prowl could feel the drug’s effects starting to wear off.  He just had to keep the seeker from realizing this until he could move enough to fight back.  His processor started running through various combat scenarios. 

“It was prototype anyway!” Flashwing boosted with a flourish.  “Tes’ of concept!  Tha’ you can clearly still see and hear me…means I still have much work to do.” Flashwing was frowning, rubbing his chin in thought.  “Perhaps should try different angle to get effect I wan’….” 

To disable a bot’s ability to perceive _anything_ , yet still be conscious?  Prowl didn’t like the sound of that.  Depending on how long he intended to keep someone like that, it ran the risk of going _beyond_ mere torture. 

He had to get more information if he could.  Since he already knew he could talk…. 

“Wha…kkk per…kkk…,” he struggled to get out. 

“For what purpose?” Flashwing asked.  “Why…revenge of course!  Certain parties had done me much harm…and so I intend to make them suffer!  One bot in particular, actually...since he was one tha’ started it all!” 

Who was he talking about?  Prowl had no real context to go by.  Starscream perhaps?  The Air Commander did have a major hand in stopping him before.  If it was him, what would Flashwing possibly need from his database on him?  Starscream had left with Megatron and he was chasing the Arc.  Surely Flashwing knew that already. 

No, as much as he hated going by his tank, it was telling him he was talking about someone else.  Who else could Flashwing hate so much? 

“Wh-kk-who?” he asked.  If his calculations were correct, he just needed to hold out for few more kliks. 

“Tsk tsk.” Flashwing was wagging a finger.  “Tha’ would be telling!  Not tha’ you care about this group much anyway!” 

A group he didn’t care much about?  The obvious one would be the Decepticons, but, again, that didn’t make much sense.  The various neutral groups?  No that didn’t fit either. 

Flashwing had moved away and was standing in front of one of the deactivated monitors, staring at his reflection on its surface.  “I had yet to prove myself,” he was muttering softly.  “So I wasn’t allowed to wear it.”  As Prowl watched, he started scratching something onto his chest plate with his own talons.  “I am only one left.  No one to tell me if I am worthy or not.  So I decide for myself!” 

Once he was done, he faced toward him once more, a bloody symbol now carved onto his chest.  Prowl’s optics widened once more when he made it out.  Rough, but unmistakable.  Pieces clicked together in his processor. 

The accent.  The choice of words.  The symbol.  They belonged to a group that became much maligned by society due to their actions long ago. 

Prowl knew what Flashwing was…knew what group he wanted revenge upon.  He had to warn them. 

With a surge of energy, he rushed him.  His calculations were slightly off, for his motor functions were not a hundred percent yet.  It will be enough.  It _had_ to be enough! 

It wasn’t. 

Flashwing had twisted to the side, dodging the fist he had aimed at his face.  Then he had grabbed that arm and pulled him toward him. 

Prowl felt a jolt of pain as something punched into his chest.  He looked down to see one of the seeker’s daggers now embedded into his frame, right where his pump lay. 

“Tsk,” Flashwing admonished, as he felt his pump struggle to continue to push energon through his frame…to his spark.  “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t expect this of you?” 

_This isn’t right.  All information I had on them…._  

“Did you honestly believe I wouldn’t know how long my drug would las’?”  Flashwing twisted the blade, then pulled it out.  A gush of energon sprayed forth for a couple of nanos as the pumps chamber emptied out in a rush.  Replaced by an occasional squirt as the pump feebly tried to keep energon flowing through his frame. 

_…said that they didn’t…._  

He fell to his knees, his vision dimming as his spark started to give out.  Flashwing had stepped away, uncaring about the energon that was now dripping down his chassis.  

“You are firs’ of many, Prowl,” Flashwing was saying, looking down at him with a malicious grin. 

_…directly kill.…_  

Once more he fell flat onto his face, only this time he knew he would not be getting up again. 

“Hunt beings now….”  Prowl heard Flashwing purr.  A nano later he heard him sit in the pilot’s seat. 

The last thing the once proud Praxian heard before his spark extinguished was: 

“And I intend to _enjoy_ it….”

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the conversation seem familiar? Yep...this is the story that influenced (and has influenced) the picture 'Flashwing's Monologue'


End file.
